


well past the middle of it

by imprintofadream (imprint_of_a_doe)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Blow Jobs, Deputy Derek Hale, Kid Fic, Little League Baseball, Multi, Parent Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2655167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imprint_of_a_doe/pseuds/imprintofadream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek starts cleaning up the dugout while he waits, gathering empty juice boxes, and he looks up when someone holds out a handful of used napkins and orange peels.</p><p>Em’s dad offers him a loose smile, almost a smirk, and Derek feels it kind of <i>clunk </i>into place behind his sternum. He stares for a minute, taking in the bright eyes, the wild mop of hair, the delicate swoop of his nose and the tendons of his neck and the<i> mouth </i>that is just the image of sin. He finally holds out the trash bag, wordless.</p><p>He honestly <i>does not need this</i> right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	well past the middle of it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trelkez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trelkez/gifts).



_it wasn't until we were well past the middle of it that we realized_ \--richard siken, little beast 

\--

“C’mon, Em! You’ve got it! Keep your eye on the ball, kid!”

Derek winces, ears ringing as the guy behind him keeps yelling. He catches Scott’s eye from his spot at first base and glares when Scott only grins at him. 

Every single game--Derek swears the guy shows up early every time just to scope out where Derek’s planning to sit. He hasn’t missed a single Little League game this season, nor any of the practices Derek managed to attend. Bennett keeps saying Emily complains constantly about her dad embarrassing her, but Derek once heard her sternly telling her father she couldn’t hear him from first base. 

“Oh, c’mon, Ump! That call was b-- that was not a good call!” 

Cora leans over to press her shoulder against Derek’s and quietly says, “Do you think he notices how any parent who dares to sit near him ends up huddled on the other side of the bleachers? Why do we keep sitting here?” 

“Because it’s crowded over there, and he moves whenever we do anyway,” Derek snaps, tugging his team hat further down. He wonders, not for the first time, if he should just invest in noise-cancelling earbuds or something. Maybe Laura will get them for his birthday. 

His younger sister snorts and slouches back to recline against the bleacher behind her, elbows propped up on the splintered wood as she watches the game. Bennett waves at her from his spot in the on-deck circle, and Cora grins and waggles her fingers in return. “Eh, whatever. At least Ben always knows where to find us.”

“Right,” Derek says. She probably can’t hear him over the guy jumping to his feet and shouting when Em makes contact with the ball. Allison looks over, distracted from her spot at the edge of the dugout, and she lifts her clipboard to hide her smile; Derek still knows from the lines around her eyes and the way her shoulders shake. She and Scott deserve each other, he decides, annoyed.

“Hey, Scott invited us to dinner, by the way. Laura’s gonna introduce us to her new girlfriend or something,” Cora says, kicking the bench in front of her until Derek puts a hand on her shin. 

“Stop that for a minute.” He sits forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Ben’s up to bat. Support your nephew.”

“I _am_ supporting him. I’m here, aren’t I? Where’s Laura, huh? Who’s the supportive auntie n-- _holy shit,_ I _hate_ baseball!” 

Derek laughs at the way Cora’s slipped between the bleachers, a slightly delayed reaction to the foul ball that hit the backstop in front of them. Ben looks over, worried frown clear even under his batting helmet, and Derek claps for him loudly, yells, “Way to go, Ben! Straighten it out!” 

His son nods seriously, turns back to the plate. At ten, he’s taller than Derek remembers being, serious about his sports and far less focused on other interests. Braeden’s still disappointed that Ben’s not interested in learning to shoot yet. She swears his hand-eye coordination would get him to competition level quicker than his fastball. 

Derek is not-so-secretly relieved their son prefers baseball. Between all the shit he and Braeden both see every day, Ben having no interest in law enforcement makes his day. 

At his side, Cora huffs, struggling to sit upright again. He thinks briefly about pushing her back over and decides the joy would be short-lived compared to whatever retribution she enacted. “Watch the game, Cora.”

“Shut up, dickhead.” 

“Language,” Derek says mildly, watching Ben take a pitch. “This is a children’s event.”

Cora grumbles under her breath for a while yet, pulling out her phone as soon as Ben makes it to first on a walk. Scott claps him on the shoulder and smiles brightly, offering a fist-bump before he turns him toward second. Dinner tonight might get rowdy with all the Hale siblings and company in one place, plus a family of Argent-McCalls underfoot. Derek really has no idea how Scott manages to coach a team of nine to ten year-olds and still have a life around work and family. 

“Are we heading to Scott’s right after dinner, then?” 

“Yeah, according to Laura--she spoke with him earlier, I guess. He’s got another friend coming over, too.” Cora flicks her eyes over at him and grins. “Wanna bet he’s trying to set you up with a date again?”

“What, like when he brought Kira over?” Derek turns away from the game, sufficiently distracted, and Cora shrugs, staring down at her phone again. “Seriously? I’m fine by myself. Ben’s in a good place right now, and Braeden and I are still good friends. I’m even great friends with Kira! I just… don’t really need anything else, you know?”

“Need, want, whatever. Mom disagrees with you. She wants another grandbaby.” 

“So go make one!” Derek snaps. 

She lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that. Mom’ll be thrilled.” 

“If all she wants is grandkids, that’ll suffice,” he points out as Danny’s daughter grounds into a double play. Em’s dad groans theatrically behind them and Derek twitches with the urge to turn around and tell him to _shut it._ “Besides, isn’t Allison pregnant again?”

“What?” 

Cora falls down between the bleachers again and Derek decides to leave her there in favor of handing out the mid-game snacks for the kids. He’ll probably regret it at dinner later.

\--

The kids gather around Scott and Allison in right field after the end of the game, listening as they announce the player of the game and the practice schedule for the weekend. Cora takes off to pre-heat dinner, leaving him behind. Derek starts cleaning up the dugout while he waits, gathering empty juice boxes, and he looks up when someone holds out a handful of used napkins and orange peels.

Em’s dad offers him a loose smile, almost a smirk, and Derek feels it kind of _clunk_ into place behind his sternum. He stares for a minute, taking in the bright eyes, the wild mop of hair, the delicate swoop of his nose and the tendons of his neck and the _mouth_ that is just the image of sin. He finally holds out the trash bag, wordless.

“Thanks,” the guy says, dusting his hands together. He looks out toward the team and then back to Derek, leaning against the back of the dugout. He’s right in Derek’s way. “So, you’re Ben’s dad, right?”

Derek nods, looking down to see if any trash escaped. He honestly _does not need this_ right now. Or ever. Really. He is perfectly fine never feeling attracted to anyone again, let alone men with wide shoulders and narrow waists. Em’s dad is his fucking _type_ , and Derek’s never been close enough to notice. Maybe he’s only ever willed himself not to. 

He wishes living in ignorance was still an option.

“Emily’s my daughter, obviously,” he continues, oblivious. “We pretty much just moved back into town.”

Derek hums and desperately glances out toward the kids--he sighs when Scott releases them. Ben takes a moment to hug Allison before helping one of the other players up. It takes him a moment to recognize Emily with her hair down and out of her cap, but _of course_ his kid is proper friends with her. 

“Hey, great game, kiddo!” The guy bounds forward to ruffle Em’s hair, and she grins up at him, knocking his hand away. They head toward the bleachers, lightly shoving each other, and Derek thanks whichever higher power helped him out of that. 

Ben grins and hands him a baseball. “Look, Dad, I got the game ball! Scott said my hit in the third inning really helped us secure our lead! Allison promised Aunt Laura would bring ice cream to celebrate tonight!”

Derek smiles and tosses the ball between his hands. “I’m proud of you. That’s really amazing, Ben. Want to call your mom on the way to Scott’s, tell her all about it?”

“Can I?” Ben picks up his bag and hands it over when Derek reaches for it, taking his ball back. Derek fishes out his phone and passes it down, pulling his keys out and unlocking the Toyota as he does. By the time Ben’s stuff is settled in the truck, Ben’s already dialed the station. The dispatcher patches him through and he spends the drive excitedly detailing every play, handing it off to Derek when they park in the street in front of Scott’s. “Mom wants to say hi. I’ll be inside, okay?”

“Hey,” he says, watching Ben ring the doorbell. Cora lets him in, waving when she sees Derek in the driveway. “Cora says hi.”

“Tell everyone I say hi back. Hey, did Ben tell you about the crush he has on a girl at school?”

Derek frowns, immediately distracted. “What? No, he neglected to mention it. Is it serious? When did he tell you? Should we be worried or something?”

Braeden laughs down the line at him, the same way she’s been doing since they met in college and all through the various forms of their relationship over the years. “Oh, man, that too easy. Nah, I was joking. He wouldn’t tell either of us, probably.” 

“You’re terrible, and I’m glad we’re not married,” Derek says, petulant. “But I’ll have Scott schedule the next dinner when you can make it. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? The dinner thing?”

“Yeah, tell him not to plan for Thursday nights. I’ve got a trainee I need to chat with, but text me tomorrow when you’re at lunch and I’ll tell you about the guy I pulled over the other day. I have a great story to tell.” 

“Sure.” Derek watches Scott pull up to the house, a blue jeep trailing behind him. “Alright, I’ll tell everyone you said hi. Be safe tonight.”

“Always am,” she assures him, and he finally pulls his keys out of the ignition. He’s halfway up the front walk when a short head of long hair flies by him and up to the doorbell. By the time he recognizes the Hurricanes’ jersey, Scott’s laughing in response to something Em’s dad just said.

Derek takes back whatever thanks he prematurely offered. 

Scott grins and claps him on the shoulder when he finally reaches him. “Hey, man! Derek, I wanted you to meet Stiles. His daughter’s on the team, and he was my best friend through high school. Stiles, dude, this is Derek.” 

The name sounds familiar, from both the parent roster and all the stories Scott’s told about the best friend that never came back after he graduated. 

Stiles offers him that grin-smirk thing again, holds out a long-fingered hand. “Yeah, nice to really meet you. I’ve seen you around town and the station and all, but never introduced myself.”

“The station?” Derek asks blankly, automatically shaking his hand. In the setting sun, Stiles’ moles stand out in stark relief against his lightly-tanned skin. 

“Yeah, you’re a deputy, right?” 

Derek looks at Scott immediately, and he’s grinning between them. He catches Derek’s gaze and shrugs, unbothered. He apparently doesn’t want a Christmas gift this year, judging by this utter betrayal. Allison probably masterminded the whole thing, but Scott wants everyone to be _happy_ and he thinks for some reason that equates to _in love_. Derek exploded on him about it once, a long time ago when he and Braeden split for the final time after they gave into family pressure and married--Scott never let it break his optimism and Derek’s never mentioned it since. He’d been in a very bitter place back then.

“My dad’s the Sheriff,” Stiles continues. “So you’ve probably seen me around or heard the older deputies talk shit about me behind my back. Apparently that’s a thing that happens. Tara likes to tell me the most outrageous rumors when I see her. Do you know that someone bet I moved back to town because I’m actually in hiding from the law in another country for setting some important building or person or whatever on fire with a sparkler?”

It’s… a lot to take in, honestly. Derek tries not to stare, because Stiles is apparently just as loud in real life as he is from the bleachers of a baseball game. “Right,” he manages. “I, uh, nice to meet you too, I guess.”

Scott rolls his eyes and pulls Stiles toward the front door, already talking, shoulder brushing Stiles’ like the ten years between them barely existed. He stands in the front yard for another moment, looks up at the darkening sky, and sighs before heading inside.

\--

Laura’s new girlfriend turns out to be Lydia Martin, one of the youngest professors of mathematics UCBH has ever tenured. She offers very small smiles around until Allison gets back from picking Abby up from Mel’s house, and then they’re both squealing like the high school best friends they apparently were.

Tonight is the night for reunion friendships, apparently. Derek doesn’t feel threatened at all. Scott and Allison aren’t the type to forget the people they love, as evidenced by Lydia and Stiles’ easy reentrance into their lives. Still, he heads into the kitchen to find the kids instead of standing at the edge of the living room with his arms crossed. Ben grins at him from the counter where Em’s pulled up the seat next to him, and Abby immediately holds her arms up toward him. 

By the time Cora calls everyone into the dining room to eat, Abby’s filled him in on her day at preschool and Ben’s declared Emily his “new best friend.” Honestly, Derek can’t even muster any surprise at that. With the way his life has played out this evening, it was only to be expected.

He’s half-shocked that he doesn’t end up sitting with Stiles, in fact. He’s sitting next to Scott, waving his hands around emphatically as he talks, and Emily climbs right up into the spot next to him, Ben to her right. “Dad, do you think Mom will let Ben come over after the game on Saturday?”

Derek slowly settles into the spot between Ben and Cora, watching Stiles turn to look at his daughter. “Uh, probably, but you’ll have to ask her. Plus you need to ask Ben’s parents too.”

Emily immediately twists in her seat to lean around Ben, and Derek blinks at her as her eyebrows rise expectantly. “Well?”

“Emily, oh my god, show some manners, will you?” Stiles flushes a bit, and Emily shrugs at him. “Uh, sorry, she never had a chance between me and Malia. Do you mind if Ben hangs out with Emily on Saturday? Malia will be at the game--she can take them both and probably drop him off whenever you want him home.”

“Please?” Emily adds, belated. She and Ben turns matching smiles toward him, and Derek feels Cora laughing beside him. 

“I’m sure that’s fine. Braeden’s got Ben on Saturday, though, so I’ll have to let her know.”

Stiles’ eyebrows go up, eyes flickering down toward the kids for a moment before he nods. “Yeah, same with Malia and Em. I’ll text her, though. She’ll just be happy Em’s finally made a friend.”

Derek zones out as Emily immediately turns on her dad, indignant. Scott pointedly smirks at him, and he reaches out for a bowl of vegetables instead of acknowledging it. He thought he would be safe from a set-up, because Stiles was supposed to be _married,_ damn it. Instead, he’s in a similar situation to Derek--a seemingly-single dad with partial custody and friends who possess a single-minded determination to set him up. 

Really, Derek never stood a chance. 

He plops a spoonful of greens onto Ben’s plate and pointedly engages Cora in a debate about the art installation she’s doing in front of the library, anyway. He can always try denial.

\--

In the three weeks since the dinner at Scott’s, Emily and Ben have formed a friendship pact that requires them to hang out either before or after every practice. Stiles volunteers to pick them both up from school on Tuesday and Thursdays, and Malia takes the kids most Saturdays. Scott, in the meantime, tells Braeden about Stiles, and she immediately tells Derek that Scott predictably intends to set them up.

“You know I’m fine with being single, right?” 

Scott looks up from the email he’s writing about the next few practices. “Huh?”

Derek shrugs and leans back against the doorway. He can hear Allison in the kitchen with Abby, walking her through Sunday morning pancakes, both of them singing along with Allison’s iPod. “You don’t have to try to set me up all the time. I know you think I’ll be happier or whatever if I find someone for me the way you found Allison, but I don’t want to destabilize Ben’s life, and--”

“Okay, hold up.” Scott struggles to sit upright from where he was slouched down in the armchair, and the laptop nearly flies onto the floor. By the time he’s properly settled, he has his serious face on, and Derek regrets bringing this up. He wants to turn around and drive back home. 

“Look, I understand wanting what’s best for your kid, okay? I’m still trying to figure out if I should finish this degree with the baby only a few months out, or if I should just dive headfirst into work and hope for a promotion soon. But, Derek, you can’t just let it be about Ben. And you can’t claim it _is_ just about Ben.” He lifts his eyebrows expectantly and gestures toward the couch. “C’mon, dude, just sit down and listen, will you?”

“I resent this,” Derek says, but he sits anyway. Scott’s got that determined look in his eye that ended up convincing Derek to apply with the Sheriff’s Department, the one that preceded his proposal to Allison despite Derek’s distrust of her family. It’s the same one he used to get when Derek told him to study something in particular for an exam, back when he was still just some kid Derek tutored through high school history to help Derek pay for his college classes.

Now, though, Scott’s practically family. He’s been there through the whole thing with Braeden, from the pregnancy to the relationship to the fall-apart to the friendship; every moment with Ben from birth to first day of school to first t-ball practice. For all that Scott started off as the idiotic kid with a crush that distracted him from his schoolwork, Derek trusts no one so much as he trusts Scott’s kindness and insight. 

“Look, I understand that you’re fine on your own, Derek. I also understand that every relationship you’ve been in has been… not your ideal. You told me about Kate, once, about what that did to you, and I _get that_. I know it’s hard to trust people after that kind of thing. But, dude, fine isn’t _happy_. I saw you when Bennett was born, you know? I’ve _seen_ you happy like that, and I just wish it wasn’t the one moment I could remember. I wish you’d been that happy at your own wedding instead of mine. The way you watched our first dance… I just want you to experience that one time.”

“You can’t force me to fall in love, Scott,” Derek says, gentle. “Thank you for… wanting me to be happy. I appreciate that. But I know what makes me happy, and that’s my family. It’s you guys. I’m perfectly content.”

“Except for how you watch Allison and I when we start acting like idiots in love. You might not want to admit it, but you _do._ Just… give yourself a chance, okay? Maybe not with Stiles, if he’s not the right one, but someday, with someone?” 

Derek looks at Scott, at the hope in his eyes, and knows Scott would drop it in an instant if he knew Derek was honestly not ready, if he truly never wanted anything like what the Argent-McCall’s have, but Scott _knows_ him better than Derek wants to admit sometimes. “Okay. Just… I’ll try or whatever, okay?”

Scott grins, bright and immediate. “Awesome. Do you want chocolate chips in your pancakes? It’s Abby’s new thing.” He pushes himself up from his chair, waits for Derek to do the same before clapping him on the shoulder and pulling him toward the kitchen. It’s easy to follow him.

\--

Braeden waves Laura over from across the parking lot and scoots over on their bench to make room. They’re one of the first games in the morning today, and the community center is much quieter than usual. For once, Stiles isn’t here. Instead, Malia is sitting in the topmost corner of the bleachers, staring around suspiciously. Braeden keeps looking up at her, but Derek shakes his head. From all the interactions between them, he’s learned she likes to make the first move in any interaction.

“She could sit with us,” Braeden says, lifting her eyebrows expectantly. “Ask her.”

“Ask who?” Laura tosses her gym bag up onto the bench between them and climbs up. She smells like sweat and deodorant, like the trees out in the preserve. He misses the mornings in high school when she’d wake him up early to go on a run, the competition he usually won. Now, she’d kick his butt if he tried to keep up with her. 

“Emily’s mom.” Braeden pulls her cap lower over her face and glances at the kids where they’re warming up. “She’s behind us in the corner.”

Laura twists around obviously to look and makes eye-contact with Malia for half a moment. “Stiles’ wife?”

“Nah, I’m not sure they were ever married, actually.” 

“Why do you know this?” Derek asks accusingly, eyeing her. Braeden grins at him but remains silent, and when Derek looks up again, Malia is watching all of them with interest. He sighs and jerks his head at the seat next to him, half-surprised when she clambers down to sit with them. “Stiles’ll be here later,” she says in place of a proper greeting, like Derek asked.

For all that Ben hangs out at her house with Emily most Saturdays, Derek usually deals with Stiles. He’s always at the games and practices, and more often than not lately, Scott’s been hanging out with him when he can. Derek has had limited interaction with Malia, especially without Stiles also around, and he’s just glad Braeden and Laura are here.

Laura leans around him to introduce herself. “So, what’s the deal with you and Stiles?” she asks, immediately after Malia lets her hand go. Derek takes it all back; he regrets ever having sisters.

Malia frowns, a furrow between her eyebrows even as they wing up again. “What do you mean?”

“Laura wants to know why you and Stiles split from each other,” Braeden clarifies. “She’s digging for information.”

“Is this related to Stiles waxing poetic about some parent on the team?”

Derek glances over at her, breathing in sharply, and Laura elbows him in the ribs. “Is he now?”

Malia shrugs. “Yeah. He’s allowed. I mean, we haven’t been involved since Em was, what, three or so? It was a college thing. I like him, a lot, but we work best as friends and co-parents. If he wants to lust after some dude, I encourage it, honestly. Besides, Scott introduced me to Kira.”

“That’s what she’s been trying to tell me?” Derek blurts out. “Are you kidding me? Why didn’t she just say so?”

“Are you friends with Kira?” Malia turns her intense gaze onto Derek, and for a moment he freezes under it. Kira probably just smiles her way through it. 

He nods and gestures at the field, where the coaches are meeting at home plate to start. Ben solemnly nods at one of Danny and Ethan’s twins, shaking her hand and wishing her a good game before he runs back toward the dugout. 

“Huh.” Malia braces her elbows on her knees and looks out at the kids. “That’s ironic.”

“Is it?” 

“Definitely.” 

Derek side-eyes her one last time, curious and unsettled at once, and he lets it rest in silence until Stiles arrives. Stiles grins and waves at all of them, bounding over eagerly. For all that it’s barely nine in the morning, he buzzes through his hellos and settles into the spot right above Derek’s. His knees barely brush Derek’s back, and he thinks about leaning into them, about tilting his head back into Stiles’ lap to look up at him. 

Malia looks at him sideways and smirks like she knows. He avoids checking on Laura and Braeden. One woman judging him is plenty.

\--

“So,” Stiles says, standing in line behind him at Starbucks. “You’re not here to get a scone for my dad, are you? Because I told Tara to inform everyone in the department that he is under a strict no-scone diet.”

Derek shakes his head and steps up to order his Americano, glancing behind him. “I’ll also pay for whatever he’s having,” he tells the barista, pulling out his card.

Stiles makes a noise of surprise and presses up next to him immediately, ordering his coffee and following Derek down the counter. “Dude, thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“I owe you,” Derek admits, trying not to look at him. Even here, in a crowded coffee chain at seven thirty in the morning, Stiles stands out from the faces he knows. He’s not smiling, exactly, but there’s a loose comfort in the way he holds himself, shoulders back and eyes sweeping the group of people around them. After a moment, he looks right at Derek, stares for a second. His eyes are dark, today, body movements muted; Derek thinks his heart speeds up exponentially the longer Stiles looks at him.

“I’m pretty sure I owe you coffee now,” he says, lips pulling up on one side even as they part. Derek wants to press forward, run his thumb across Stiles’ mouth, kiss him just for a second.

It doesn’t startle him, not really, but the way he sways forward for half a moment, unintended, pulls him back to reality. 

“No, it’s fine,” he says, automatic. “Don’t worry about it.”

Stiles shakes his head, hair pressed down on one side where he probably slept on it. There’s a pillow crease embedded down the side of his jaw. Derek wants to follow it with his nose, lean against him. “Nah, really, I’ll get you next time. Maybe if you have time then, we can sit down and trade embarrassing Scott stories. I’ll fill you in on the early years, you fill me in on the ones I missed?”

It takes a moment, but Derek nods, slowly, wondering whether or not Stiles means it as a date. It must show on his face, because Stiles seems to square his shoulders, chin tilting up a degree. “Not a date if you don’t want it to be,” he adds. 

“I--” Derek clears his throat, thinks about Scott’s words from a few weeks ago, about the way Stiles yells himself hoarse twice a week from the bleachers behind Derek to support his kid, about the bright flush rising high across Stiles’ cheeks. “A date’s fine with me, actually.” 

Stiles stares at him for a moment before his mouth twitches up again. He reaches out and grabs their coffees from the counter, hands Derek’s over. “Yeah. Cool. Just, my, uh, my number’s on the parent contact sheet. I, wow, text me when you’re free, then?” He pulls back, eyes never moving away from Derek’s, and Derek manages to smile, small and private.

\--

Stiles talks more with his body than he does with his mouth, which is saying something. His hands fly through the air, indignant and harried, displacing all the air around him until Derek thinks Stiles operates inside a mini-cyclone; his nose twitches and his eyebrows jump and his mouth--Derek barely needs to listen.

He watches instead, reaches out to catch one of Stiles’ hands, pulls him in and presses his mouth to Stiles’ neck, his jawline, his lips. Derek’s never been someone who wastes words, choosing to only when necessary, and Stiles allows him that easily, lets him speak with brief touches and silent expressions. 

Braeden laughs at him over their weekly lunch and Derek feels himself blushing, plays with his fork until she kicks him lightly in the ankle, rests hers against his. “I’m glad, though, really,” she says, smiling, and he takes a sip of water to hide his relief. 

“You think Ben will be okay with it?”

“He already knows.”

Derek ends up coughing around the bite of salad he was taking. “What?”

She shrugs at him, unconcerned. “Yeah, Stiles told Emily practically right away, and she told Ben a few days ago. He’s waiting for you to say something. I told him you’d talk to him eventually.”

“What the hell do I say?”

“Say you’re dating someone, dumbass, and that it basically means you’re getting to know Stiles. He’s ten. He knows what sex is. You’re the one who told him about it.” Braeden grins and sips at her soda, watching him over the rim of her glass. “Besides,” she continues when he gapes at her, “he’s probably just dreaming of the day when he and Emily can live in the same house every day.”

“That’s… moving a little fast, probably,” Derek mutters, mortified, and Braeden waves her hand over her shoulder dismissively. “Why did I ever introduce you to my sisters?”

\--

Bennett watches him over dinner that night when Derek picks him up from Melissa’s after work. He’s twirling noodles around his fork aimlessly, flicking his eyes between the show on tv and Derek across the table. “Did you know,” Ben starts, “that the moon goes through phases so we can see more or less of it because of the sun and the way it moves around the earth? The moon orbits the earth like the earth orbits the sun, and it lights up because of the sun’s light reflecting off it.”

Derek lifts his eyebrows and looks away from the newspaper he was glancing through. “Yeah? Are you learning about it in science?” 

“Yeah, we have to do a project on Monday to show how it works. Em’s gonna be my partner--Kira already let us choose.”

“She’s Ms Yukimura when she’s at school, Ben.”

His son shrugs. “I know. But Erica says outside of school I can call them by their names.”

“Erica is a bad influence,” Derek mutters under his breath, feeling like he’s the ten year old. “How’s Emily?”

Immediately, Ben brightens, sitting up in his chair, fork forgotten in hand. “She’s good! Malia’s going to let us camp in the yard on Saturday night. She says she’s really good at it and Emily’s never tried it before so it’ll be lots of fun. Mom said I can go already.”

“Well, if Mom said.” Derek grabs his empty plate and stands, headed toward the dishwasher. 

“I have a question. If you and Stiles get married, does that make him my stepdad?”

Derek drops his plate on the edge of the counter and curses loudly, stepping around the shards of porcelain. He should have expected it, really, he thinks as he glances back toward the table. Ben’s twisted around in his seat, gripping the back of it and staring with wide eyes. “Stay in your seat until I get this swept up,” Derek says, sighing as Ben starts to slide to the floor. He skirts around the broken pieces toward the pantry door where he last saw the broom. “How long have you been keeping that in?” he asks finally, carefully gathering the pile. 

“Uh, since Emily told me her dad was dating you. So, like, a week?” 

After date number five, then. Derek clears his throat. “Okay, well, Stiles and I have only been dating since the middle of April. We like each other, but I’m not sure how serious it will be, so table the stepdad conversation for another few years and we’ll revisit it if it turns into anything. Are… you okay with it, though?” 

He tries not to look up, dumping the shards into the trash instead, and Ben surprises him by hugging him around the waist. “Dad, I’m glad you’re trying again. Mom’s always saying she thinks you should, and I already talked to her about it, so I’m fine.” Ben stares up at him, earnest, and Derek swallows. “Besides, I like Stiles. He’s hilarious, and he’s my best friend’s dad. Plus, he’s Scott’s best friend and he has the best stories, Dad! Did he tell you about how when they were kids he told Scott--”

Derek pulls Ben in closer to hug him back, relief coursing through him alongside a tidal wave of fondness. “Yeah, kid, I probably heard the story. Scott was pretty gullible as a kid. Believe me, I knew him for part of it.”

Ben’s eyes widen as he pulls back. “Oh my gosh, you have stories too! Save them for when Em’s here! She _loves_ them. Allison gives us a cookie for the really good ones.”

\--

The one nice thing about having split custody of Ben and Emily turns out to be Saturday nights free of kids, which used to mean Netflix marathons and dinner with Boyd and Erica. Now, though, it means Derek gets to push Stiles back on the couch cushions and spread himself over top of him. It means no chance of interruption when he latches his mouth onto Stiles’ pulse point and sucks, when Stiles’ clever fingers dance over the small of his back where he’s most ticklish.

“Can you just--”

Stiles laughs under him, shaking Derek, and his eyes dart down to Derek’s mouth again, fingers pressing firmly under the waistband of his jeans. “Can I what, Derek?”

“We’re really going to do this on my couch? Where my kid sits and eats pretzels?” 

“Is that what I’m laying on?” Stiles demands, pushing him up immediately. “Dude, why did you even put me on the couch?”

Derek rolls his eyes but reaches out to snag Stiles’ shirt and turn him down the hall. “Just, come on.”

“Come on what?”

He closes his eyes and debates, one more time, whether or not putting up with this shit is really worth it, but Stiles’ mouth on the top of his shoulder decides him. Despite all the terrible puns and the loud yelling on the baseball diamond and, god, the way his socks never match, Stiles’ hands and loyalty and, yeah, even the husky broken quality of his voice when he tries not to cuss at an umpire, all go right to Derek’s dick. 

Stiles shoves him down on the bed easily, clambers up on top of him to kiss him, hands tangled in Derek’s hair and spine arched. Derek scrabbles at his t-shirt, pulls it up and off to bare more skin for himself. By the time they’re both naked, a chain of light marks lines Stiles’ torso from collarbone to hipbone. Derek wants to make them permanent, wants to press them into Stiles’ skin indefinitely. He brushes his mouth over Stiles’ inner thigh, swats him lightly on the side of his ass when Stiles’ accidentally kicks at him, laughing. 

“Do you mind not doing this while I’m trying to suck your dick?” Derek asks, dry, and Stiles waves an imperious hand down at him. 

“Yeah, yeah, go on, then, show me what you’ve-- _Derek.”_

He grins around Stiles’ cock, swipes his tongue up the underside of the head before pulling off. “What?”

Stiles glares at him, hands back on the bedspread, one leg still curled around Derek’s waist. “Why do I like you?”

“Because I give good head?” Derek ducks back down again, trying not to laugh when Stiles inevitably hitches his hips up in small increments. He wants to draw this out, to tease and fluster and pull Stiles apart piece by piece, but it’s--he hasn’t had sex since that one night stand last year with Jennifer Blake, and sucking Stiles down his throat seems far easier than pulling off again. He locks Stiles’ hips on the bed with a forearm and goes to town, relishing every cut-off groan and gasp. Stiles says his name like it’s tearing its way up from his chest, like the leg around his waist will never let go and the hand now in his hair will twist and twist and twist him ever closer. 

Derek relishes it, thinks about the day when they’ll have more time and energy to really get into things, when he’ll see exactly how long Stiles can hold off, when Derek will be able to take him over the edge so he’ll have time to prep himself before he slides down onto Stiles’ cock until they’re both gasping. He wants to cling to Stiles and press himself as close as possible, and he will, then. 

For tonight, though, he brings Stiles all the way to the edge, brushes a dry thumb over him and pulls off for the last few tugs of his hand, watches Stiles come across his own chest with his back arched and his stomach tight. 

He grins, catches the dazed indignation on Stiles’ face before he’s flipped onto his own back, laughing. 

They’ll have plenty of time, really, to go further. Tomorrow Derek gets Ben back, and on Tuesday Stiles gets Emily, and they’ll probably do dinner at Scott’s house on Friday night now that baseball and school are done. Laura will tease Stiles about the hickey barely visible under his collar, and Derek’ll threaten to tell their mom about the time Laura stole her favorite shoes and lost them in the lake, and Scott will play mediator as always. 

They’ll have plenty of time.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to all of the requisite babes, as per. heart eyes all over.


End file.
